Of Mystery and Magic
by Alasse Seregon
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir are sent to check out the North-Eastern border of Rivendell territory and run afowl of the humans there – oh dear! I suck at summaries, if you can tell…heheh.' 'Just read it and make your own summary...rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from either of these shows/tv series/movies. Rights go to their respective owners. Exept for Narye – she is totally MINE! I just felt like writing a crossover of these two worlds and decided to do it – sorry if I'm treading on any toes – comments and criticism is welcome as long as you're nice about it! This is my first try at a fan-fic, so saying sorry beforehand :D

Enjoy!

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir are sent to check out the North-Eastern border of Rivendell territory and run afowl of the humans there – oh dear! I suck at summaries, if you can tell…heheh.'~'

Chapter 1

The sun was high in a cloudless sky, its rays scattering along the floor of a springtime forest. Two figures raced towards a nearby waterfall, following its echoing roar. Wind buffeted their faces, long ebony hair streaming behind them as they dashed through the trees as if racing the wind itself. Long wirey legs propelled them faster and faster, paying no heed to the heavy packs on their slender shoulders.

The first one skidded to a stop just before the waterfalls and let out a triumphant shout. He turned back in the direction he came, watching as his opponent followed close behind, consternation plain on his chiseled face. The latter sighed and dropped into a crouch, struggling to regain his breath as he let his pack fall to the ground. "That wasn't completely…fair, y'know," he panted, glaring at his companion, "you had a head start."

"Oh-hoh, not so, Gwadur nin," said the first with a winded laugh, "you just had a slow start, slowpoke."

"Why you-" Elladan stammered and tackled his younger twin, boxing his ears playfully. Elrohir yelped and fought back, blocking his brother's blows and throwing him off with his legs. After a while they separated, once more out of breath and filling the forest with their pealing laughter. The two elves had been sent to the North-Eastern Border of Rivendell territory. There were rumors of increasing numbers of men entering the forests there and using the life there to their own gain, without permission of the Elven king. No one was overly familiar with that part of Rivendell territory and few patrols passed there. So of course, The twin sons of Elrond Perendhel had leapt at the chance to get away from court life for a while. Lord Glorfindel had agreed, and their Father had reluctantly acquiesced after a long session of pleading and begging from the two boys. While Arwen, their younger sister seemed to enjoy sitting in a counsel session for hours at a time, the two boys found the experience almost unbearable, and were more often than not the source of several pranks at the expense of the other counsel members.

Standing up from his perch on a mossy boulder, Elrohir looked up at the setting sun, his grey eyes squinting against the brightness. "We should walk upstream a ways and make camp," he said, "It will be dark soon."

"Agreed," Elladan replied, brushing his green and brown tunic off with one long fingered hand. "And catch something for dinner – I'm famished!"

Elrohir nodded, "good idea," he said. Raising his fingers to his lips he let out a shrill whistle and waited for the familiar whinnies of the steeds Elladan and he had abandoned during their race. The elf laughed as he turned and caught sight of the two stallions, already further upstream and shaking their manes as if they were laughing at the young elves' foolishness.

"It seems both of us have been beat in the race, mellon nin," Elrohir remarked with a smile, pointing towards the horses. Elladan grunted and shouldered his pack once more, following his brother up the stream.

That night the twins enjoyed themselves beside a brightly burning fire under the open sky, the stars shining down brightly from the heavens. Elrohir gazed at the stars as his brother played a tune on the small flute he always packed. Everything out here was so peaceful – despite the growing shadow of the dark lord that drew ever closer to Rivendell, spreading through the land like a plague. Even now, the night sounds were lulling the young elf to blissful sleep; the chirping of the crickets, the singing of frogs, the soft roar of the distant waterfall…

Elrohir frowned and sat up, leaning on his elbows. Something wasn't quite right. He tipped his head, pointed ears straining for any out of place sounds. His brother looked at him puzzled for a moment, then stopped playing as he too heard what was causing his brother concern. Elladan felt it now too; the felling that someone or something was watching them. His hand instinctively slipped to the hilt of his knife resting gently on his hip.

A rustle in the bushes brought both warriors to their feet, weapons at the ready, though not drawn. Twin sets of steel grey eyes pierced the darkness, searching for the source of the disturbance. When nothing so much as breathed out of sync, the Peredhel twins slowly relazed, collapsing by the fire once more. Elladan laughed, Elrohir slowly joining in. "You are so skittish!" Elladan chuckled, "It was probably just a rabbit or doe drawn toward the fire or music. They aren't afraid of anyone here it seems."

Elrohir nodded, not entirely convinced. He was certain he had seen the form of a man; whatever it was, though, it was gone and certainly nothing to worry about. The young elf leaned back once more, his eyes gazing off into the starscape over his head, his lids sliding to half-mast in sleep as the heavens danced their way across the sky.

Unseen and unheard, a shadow slipped away, heading towards the edge of the forest and the inhabited lands beyond.

gwadur nin: twin brother

Hope y'all like!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own anything from either of these shows/tv series/movies. Rights go to their respective owners. Exept for Narye – she is totally MINE! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"Are you sure that's what you saw, Haldris?" Daryl asked, his forehead creased in a quickly deepening frown. "You'd better not be having me on." The knight warned his friend.

"I swear, Daryl!" the blonde squire looked at the taller knight pleadingly, a mixture of fear and excitement in his eye, "All the rumors are true! I was out checking the traps when I heard them playing their spooky music – you know, the stuff that will enchant you if you aren't careful – I saw them there plain as day! They were tall, skinny, with long hair and pointed ears, and the GLOWED! And when I tried to sneak in to get a closer look -"

Daryl rubbed his chin with one weathered hand. His squire was a young boy from the castle, inexperienced, hyper and at times over-eager. He also enjoyed regaling his friends with stories of his adventures, elaborating on ancient tales and legends as if they were his own. But this was not quite his style…

"And then they shot an arrow at me and I barely missed being skewered! Had I not used all the knowledge that you taught me, I would have probably ended up as their meal!"

Daryl put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, quieting the frightened child. This was definitely no story, the knight decided, if the look in the boy's eyes said anything…he was terrified. He had seen magical creatures in a kingdom where magic in any form was banned as a thing of pure evil. Patrols had brought back rumors of magical creatures in the woods similar to men. The knight looked at the boy with kind eyes. "I will let the king know," he told him, trying to reassure the young squire. The king would have to be told.

Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot and conqueror of evil stood with his back to the audience that came before him. But everyone present could feel the waves of anger radiating from him.

"They were in the forest you say?" he asked, his rage barely contained. In his forests, attacking his people…

"They must be eliminated," he said with vicious finality.

"Father?" Arthur had been silent until now, standing before his king like any other knight of the realm; he preferred it that way. But this treatment seemed a little harsh, even coming from his father.

"What would you have me do, Arthur?" Uther said sharply, turning on his heel to face his son, grey eyes glowering, daring the young man to confront him. "Allow the people of my kingdom to be continuously plagued by these mongrels?" Arthur felt himself cringing under his father's withering gaze. He wasn't afraid of anything he could ever face in battle, but when his father's wrath made itself known, even the stoutest of knights cowered.

That was why Uther was King.

"Of Course not Father," the Prince answered, tipping his head down in respect, "But perhaps they are only men lost in their travels. Even if these people are who they are rumored to be, should we not hear their story?" he queried. Somehow though he knew his Father would not listen. Their eyes connected – stern father against stubborn son; an equal match.

Off to the side, a servant boy looked on, watching the scene unfold with avid curiosity. Merlin was always at Arthur's side, and now that they were going after the elves, couldn't wait to head out. Half of him was looking forward to meeting them; though he wished it could be under MUCH better circumstances. He did not want to see the elves captured, and he would do everything in his power to keep it from happening without compromising his own safety.

He turned his attention back to the two royal family members' staring contest. After what seemed like an eternity, the King blinked, to Merlin's astonishment.

"Perhaps you're right," Uther said, turning from his son to glance out the window and then over to his young ward, Morgana. "Capture them and bring them to the castle." He paused, and then added, "But be careful. Elves are devious and cunning…and will not hesitate to strike you down when your back is turned."

"I understand Father," Arthur said with a bow, "I will bring them back to you." He turned and signaled to his men to leave. As he passed Merlin he glanced at him. "Get my horse ready," he said with a smirk as he passed the servant by.

Merlin just scoffed. _Arrogant twit_.

Gaius glanced up from his work when he heard the door to his tower room open with a resounding creak. "Ah, Merlin, you're back early," he said, "Nothing terrible I hope."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Nope," he said, pulling out his satchel from a nearby cupboard, "Arthur's heading off on another mission, as usual; and I get to tag along and do the housekeeping."

Gaius chuckled. "You poor thing," he said in a mocking tone. By now he had become used to Merlin heading off to the four corners with the young Pendragon prince. Merlin enjoyed it too, despite the outer appearance of loathing he put on every time he had to do something for the proud princeling. It was those rare chances to get out of the castle that kept the young wizard going despite the heavy burden on his shoulders.

Picking up a small bag on a shelf at the far end of the room, Gaius handed it to Merlin. "Take these with you," he said, "Just in case you get into trouble out there. They're healing herbs that will keep off infections and the like." Merlin smiled and took the package with a muttered 'thanks'.

They worked in silence for a while, Gaius with his potions, Merlin with his packing. With a final tug, Merlin tied the bag shut and frowned.

"I something troubling you?" Gaius asked his charge.

Merlin stared at the bag for a while before turning to Gaius. "What all do you know about elves?" he asked.

Gaius raised his hoary eyebrows in surprise; he hadn't heard anything about elves in a very long time. "Not much, I'm afraid," he said, walking over to one of his many shelves stuffed with books. "there should be more in the books. All I know really is that, according to legend, they are an ancient race from before man. Tall, fair featured and elegant…" he flipped open a book on old religion species and found the article he was looking for. "Aha, here they are; like I said, elegant and tall, they are masters of the forest and friends of the trees and animals. They have many famed wizards in their history, and are formidable warriors." He paused, and Merlin took over the reading.

"they live in remote cities, only venturing out occasionally and are rarely seen outside of their own realms…when angered, they are almost unstoppable. They are immortal-" Merlin glanced up at Gaius with wide eyes. "-and are known mostly for their wisdom and power over nature…wow." Merlin finished, leaning back from the book. "that's incredible!"

"Yes," Gaius said, "They are indeed incredible and dangerous creatures," he shut the book and returned it to its shelf, "Though only to be feared when angered. Why do you ask?" The old physician queried.

Merlin fidgeted. "There have been rumors of elves spotted in the woods…" he glued his eyes to the floor, "Arthur's been ordered to bring them to Camelot."

Gaius frowned. "Oh dear," he muttered. "You had best be careful and stay out of the way. Arthur will more likely than not return empty handed though – Elves are better, older, and faster warriors than any human the prince will ever encounter."

Merlin nodded. "I hope you're right," he whispered before shouldering his pack and heading out to join the rest of the party.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Good grief, do I have to put this on every freakin' chapter? By the Valar, I own nothing except Narye…and I want to own Elrohir or Elladan – more Elrohir than the other, but hey, either one will do!

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Elladan and Elrohir were walking along the riverside, allowing the horses to rest and enjoying the chance to stretch their legs from the long ride in the saddle. Elladan decided that it was most unnatural up there, much better to be bare-back, where you could feel the horse beneath you and join in with its rhythm without working around the saddle. But even better than that was walking, with the ground beneath your feet and feeling more at one with the land than any other way of travel.

He was listening to the song of the birds as they walked along, when he heard a different tune. He tilted his head to try to hear it better, straining to hear the soft lilting notes as they floated on the breeze. It was like a pan-flute, but softer; not as chilling a note and more tenor. "Do you hear that?" he asked his brother curiously.

Elrohir frowned, his eyebrows knitting as he too strained to hear the music. "I think so…like flutes, right?"

Elladan nodded. He handed the reins of his horse to his brother and headed off in the direction of the noise. "Take care of the horses," he said, "I'll be right back."

Elrohir started to pursue his brother, to call out to him to not run off. "Just don't get lost in the woods brother," he called instead. "Father and Glorfindel will never forgive me if you do." It was probably nothing, just the faeries playing their tricks, or nymphs having their fun at the elves' expense, he told himself, though his sixth sense was telling him otherwise. Elladan had seemed to take no notice of it, so there was truly no cause for alarm. Tying the reins loosely to a tree branch, Elrohir sat down beside the river, dipping his hand into the clear water. It rippled happily at his touch, the chuckle of the nyads very much alive.

He closed his eyes as the wind brushed his cheek, whispering in his ear. His brother was still fine, if a little perplexed. The bond that they shared only secured that feeling and put Elrohir more at ease than the whisper of the trees as they told him of his brother's progress – or lack thereof.

Suddenly the whisper changed, sending a warning tingle up the young elf's spine. Men were coming fast, probably on horseback. Without a second thought, Elrohir leapt up into the trees, blending in easily with the green and browns of the foliage. He could hear the hoof beats now; there were many of them, if his guess was correct, and they were armed. Probably a patrol of Rohirrim, he scoffed at himself and dropped down from the tree scolding himself for being so jittery. Men were decent folk, if a little nervous around different folk and prone to violence. But they would not attack without reason. Still, the elf found himself readying his bow and arrow just in case.

Arthur and his men quickly gained on the elves, following the faint trails as best they could. He could tell that Merlin was nervous, he was holding himself stiffly, though his eyes told of an eager anticipation – as if he wanted to meet these strange creatures. Arthur on the other hand, was wondering just what they would find; green skinned pale folk with whiskers and talons like the stories told? Merlin seemed to think otherwise, but what did that oaf of a servant know?

He was soon to find out. As they approached the river, a tall young man approached them from where he stood with a pair of very handsome steeds, a bow and arrow in his hands.

"Mae govannen, mellon nin," the man spoke, the foreign language rolling off his tongue with ease. "Well met, strangers. What brings you to these parts?"

Arthur just stared for a moment at the man. Barely distinguishable from humans, this man was tall, well built, with long hands and a clear face. His eyes were a steel grey and his ebony hair fell gently around his shoulders. The most striking attribute was that his ears were _pointed, _not rounded like normal men. This must be the elf the King had talked about. He felt himself becoming more guarded.

"I am Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. We are here to take you to Camelot for an audience with the king," he answered shortly.

Elrohir frowned. "I am unable to come," he said apologetically, "Please forgive me. We are here on the business of Lord Elrond, patrolling our North-Eastern border." he stepped back, clutching his bow tighter, seeing a change in demeanor among the troops behind the leader. "Why have you troubled the forests?" he asked tentatively.

Suddenly another rider joined the group, Daryl's squire riding up scattered and out of breath. His eyes landed on the elf before him and he paled. "That's him!" he cried, "That's the elf that attacked me!"

Arthur's men burst into action, quickly surrounding Elrohir with their sturdy mounts, hoofs pounding against the tender ground. The twin immediately pulled his bow to his shoulder, drawing back the white-feather fletched arrow with skilled deference and aiming it at Arthur's chest. "Back away," he ordered, his voice stern, "Or you will find more than one arrow piercing that fine armour." He paused, watching the men's nervous glances…well, at least he knew that they weren't completely unknowledgeable of elves.

But the squire, unseen had jumped off his horse and picked up a stone. He chucked it at the elf, hitting his shoulder with the sharp stone, catching Elrohir off-guard. The Arrow flew wild, embedding itself in a nearby tree. Before Elrohir knew what was happening, several of the knights had swung their swords toward him, their broad blades narrowly missing his vital areas. He dodged deftly, ducking under the leader's horse. "Noro lim!" he whispered frantically, trying to even the battle. But these horses did not answer his speech, his words only confusing them. His constant ducking under them made them skittish, and several of them bucked, throwing their riders. He dashed out of the ring of riders as they struggled with their mounts and untied his own steeds from the branch where they had been standing, restlessly whickering at their rider. "Drego," he told them, not caring if the humans heard him, "rada-gwadur nin; trenar bragman…find him!" he worried for his brother, and prayed he had not been these men's prey without his knowledge.

He turned and brought up his sturdy bow in time to block a strong blow from the leader of the men; he glared at him, feeling the horses dash into the woods. Elrohir threw the man off of him, surprised at the young warrior's strength; it was almost like battling his young human brother, Estel. A formidable opponent, the blonde warrior ran at him again with a great cry, and Elrohir stepped to the side, baring his twin elven blades. Blow after blow landed on the blades, forcing Elrohir back, his eyes wide. With the next strike though, the elf twisted around, spinning with his back to his opponent's and slicing with his left knife along the man's side. He then jumped back, only to be attacked by two more men.

Arthur winced and brought his hand to the wound. How had that creature managed that? Arthur had him backed into a corner, and then…

He withdrew his hand; bright moist blood covered his hand. He hissed through his teeth and ran to join his comrades.

Elrohir was furiously ducking, parrying and deflecting the blows from four men now, trying to get around to one side in order to step out of the deadly circle. They were trained well; it was almost impossible to find a gap in their assault. He had already suffered several injuries himself. Just nicks though – a gash on the forearm, cut on his left calf muscle. But he could barely feel them, his mind fully on the fight at hand.

Suddenly there was a sharp whistle in the air and Elrohir let out a stifled yelp and staggered as an arrow embedded itself in his side. He whirled around in time to see the squire in a nearby tree, knocking another arrow into the bow. Someone kicked his feet out from under him, and he felt pain explode in the back of his head as he hit the earth, twisting the arrow viciously and slamming his head into a sharp rock face. He struggled to get up, kicking back the humans that approached him.

"What have we done to you…to deserve such…foul treatment?" he panted, one hand pressing against the wound in his side to keep the arrow from moving. He felt himself wavering, and warmness creeping down his neck from what was obviously a nasty gash on the back of his head. He never got a response. A solid blow to his temple knocked him out cold, and he collapsed upon the forest floor, his eyes shut and his breathing shallow.

Mae govannen, mellon nin: lit. well met, friend

Noro lim: ride fast

rada-gwadur nin; trenar bragman: find my brother


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Narye, blah blahblah etcetera etcetera…enjoy.

Chapter 4

Elrond woke violently from his sleep, his heart in his throat. He had dreamt of things he prayed would never happen He breathed a deep, calming breath. Focus, the peredhel told himself, remember the dream.

He had been in a woods, dark and foreboding. The sound of a flute, faint and taunting, drawing him into the forest…and a woman's voice, shrill and lyrical, urging him to follow. The sky was growing dark, as if a rainstorm was on its way…

And then pain, so much pain! His mind still ached from it, searing through his thoughts with a fiery will of its own. And blood. He had touched the voice and his hands had come back bloody, the liquid still warm on his hands.

Now in the waking world, Elrond buried his head in his hands, praying it was all a dream, that his sons were safe and would soon return. He panicked momentarily when he felt a moist drop touch his hands, but he found instead an unbidden tear lying on his palm. He brushed it off and walked out of his room, throwing on his dark grey robes and strolling down the hall to the gardens that surrounded the palace. Perhaps his mind would find some solace there.

For what seemed like hours he walked among the towering trees, listening to the gentle bubbling of the waterfall and the chirping of crickets. But the quiet sounds did nothing to calm his mind, only to make it worse.

"Elrond…mellon nin?"

The half-elf whirled around at the sudden presence to come face to face with Glorfindel, his dear friend and commander in chief of the elven army of Imladris. Blue eyes gazed at grey ones, and Elrond collapsed onto a bench with a sigh. "You startled me," he said.

"It seems so," Glorfindel replied, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow. His friend was disturbed, more so than he had expected if his reaction meant anything. "man raeg, mellon nin?"

Elrond shook his head. "I fear for my sons," he breathed, closing his eyes against the memories of the dream. "I had a dream about misfortune that lies in those forests…" he frowned, his expression looking ghostly in the moonlight.

"A foresight?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrond nodded.

The golden-haired elf placed a hand on the healer's shoulder. He had seen this happen before; foresight was one of the many gifts given by the Valar to his fellow warrior. Often though, he felt that the gift was only another strain on his friend's heart. He had been through so much already with his family; Celebrian's passing, the betrayal from the human kings during the fight for freedom from Sauron, the constant trouble his twins found themselves in…the list went on and on.

"Should I send a patrol out to make sure they are safe?" the commander asked, "I have a patrol a mere three days from their location."

Elrond nodded. "I would appreciate that. I cannot shake this feeling of impending doom…" he scoffed at himself. "It feels ridiculous sometimes."

"No, it's not," Glorfindel chided the Elven king. "And you know it. You foresight has saved our people so much pain and suffering…I can only pray that it is wrong this time. Estelio nin, Avo'osto, mellon. I will bring your sons back."

****meanwhile****

The sound of the flute was creeping closer and closer as Elladan ran through the trees in avid pursuit. It seemed to be coming from all around and yet far away, as if from a dream or hallucination.

"Where are you?" the elf called.

Only the sound of the music answered, luring him further into the thicket.

Elladan ran on and on for what seemed like an eternity, following the haunting music that whistled through the forest. It seemed to drown out all thought, the sole purpose of finding the musician controlling Elladan's very soul as he ran.

Suddenly the young elf found himself in a clearing and stopped. To the East, mountains rose, towering over the surrounding forests. A stream flowed through the clearing and the distant sound of a waterfall could be heard. Rocks and boulders lay strewn around the edges of the stream, and the clearest water Elladan had ever seen coursed through its path toward the river beyond. The warrior knelt by the stream and moved to take a draught of the refreshing water but stopped. He heard laughter – tinkling and pure, like the water's song and yet soft, like a breeze through the trees during the first rays of springtime. Elladan glanced around, confused.

Sitting on a nearby rock was a tiny creature so strange that even Elladan, a 1800 year old elf had never seen the like before. He frowned. It was small, about the size of a young human child with pale green skin and light aqua hair that seemed to glow in the scattered sunshine. Its violet eyes were large – almost bulbous, framed with long wispy eyebrows, a tiny nose and a delicate mouth. The creature's ears were long, even by elven standards, shifting constantly to catch any and all sound. Incredibly slender, it seemed to be resting on the rock and hovering at the same time. The only clothes it wore was a light chiffon toga-style raiment that wrapped loosely around its ethereal form.

It laughed that tinkling laughter again and smiled at the elf. In one delicate hand lay a small reed flute.

"It was you!"

It blinked wide violet eyes at the elven scout and looked behind him, as if searching for someone else.

"lindil; uye simen?" it asked, concern appearing on its delicate face.

It was Elladan's turn to blink now. This creature spoke the old tongue? Only the Valar and those that had seen the Grey Havens knew that language.

"ni tuler/I came alone," he replied, his tongue struggling with the unfamiliar dialect. "Ro dar'tinamin. Mankoi lle dinammen? Ya ier nin?/he waits for me. Why call us? Who are you?" he asked. His questions flooded his mind and spilled out without thought.

"Why did he not come!" The creature screamed in its high-pitched voice, leaping from its perch on the rocks. "I am Narye, keeper of these woods, nymph of the Clear waters," she added, almost as an afterthought. She was now flying around the elf's head in dizzying circles, fury written on her pinched face. "Danger approaches, man-creatures defile my woods, take my trees – gash my land with their giant iron claws! They come and I warn, hide, go away, come to me! Listen? No!" Elladan jerked back as she flew at his face viciously, "Only one obeys, and I find the DEAF one!"

Elladan frowned. Deaf one? He scoffed. This 'nymph of the Woods' was becoming more and more annoying by the second.

Suddenly the elf felt a warning shriek through his bond with his twin and pain shot through his mind. He gripped his temple as if a migraine had just rammed into his skull and growled. He turned on the spirit. She was still now, as if listening to the whisper of the trees.

"They came," she said softly…sadly.

"Who came?" Elladan asked, anger and worry lacing his tone. "What do you hear?"

Pain jolted through him again and he tried to contact his twin through their link, but to no avail. Panic gripped the young elf's heart. What was happening back at the camp? He started to dash out of the clearing back the way he came. He saw the horses burst through the tree line, their eyes wide and whickering of battle. His stomache leapt into his throat and he picked up his pace.

But the nymph blocked his way.

"No," she said, tears welling in her wide eyes, "Must not go – man-creatures dangerous! Will not lose both evellyn!" she was crying in earnest now, her slender tiny hands clasping to the elf's ebony hair desperately.

Elladan brushed her aside as if she were little more than a leaf tangled in his hair. "I must go to my brother!" he hollered, and leapt into the woods, the nymph flying close behind, still clinging to his thick, tangled locks.

_I'm coming for you, gwadur nin_, Elladan sent through the bond, _don't worry_.

Man raeg: What (is) wrong

Lindil; uye simen?: the other; he is not here?

ni tuler: I come alone

Ro dar'tinamin: he waits for me.

Mankoi lle dinammen? : Why call us?

Ya ier nin?: Who are you?

Evellyn: Elven friends/comrades

I loved writing this chapter…Elven is so much fun to translate! Hope Y'all like it…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Narye, blah blahblah etcetera etcetera…oh wait! And Daryl and the squire! Okay, enjoy now.

Sorry I've taken so long to get these next bits up…school has been pure terror! Hope y'all like it though.

Chapter 5

Merlin was ticked, to say the least. He polished with strong, violent strokes as he finished Arthur's armour for the upcoming competition. Why couldn't Arthur have NOT been a prat for once in his life? The young wizard thought back to the day's happenings with a growing fury:

"Is my horse ready yet?" Arthur asked as he rounded the corner of the stables. Half of him hoped that the servant boy, Merlin had fallen asleep against so he could tease him about being the worst servant ever – not that he was, though he could be a pain in the neck at times. But the other half of his mind just wanted this dratted mission to be over and done with. It reminded him of the missions he went on when he was younger, when the forests still had remnants of the forest creatures that his father hated so much. He wasn't looking forward to capturing these people – at least his Father had agreed to meet with them before proclaiming their sentence. Deep down he was slightly nervous…what he had heard of elves made them seem to not be the most cooperative people to deal with. They were the things of nighttime stories, meant to scare children into obedience.

"Yup, all – woah!" Merlin reeled back as he almost rammed into the young prince in his haste to answer. He grinned apologetically and stepped back a bit. "He's waiting outside for you with the men." He paused, grabbing his saddle-bags. "Hang on a sec and I'll be right out – gotta get Lily." Lily was the tawny mare that Merlin always rode when going out with the knights and Arthur on adventures. She was trusty, stable, and not skittish at all.

Arthur laughed. "Sure, no problem, we'll all just wait outside while you manage to get your steed ready, m'lord." He said with a teasing grin. Then, as if remembering something important that he had forgotten, he lifted a finger pointing back towards the castle.

"Did you finish my armour?" he asked with a frown.

"What?" Merlin almost choked on the last bit of biscuit from the morning's breakfast. He hadn't been told he had to do that today – that was normally done on Wednesdays. If he had been told before, he would have already done it! And the tournament wasn't close enough to worry about. "What are you talking about…the competition isn't for another two weeks."

"Ah yes, but the tryouts are tomorrow, and men from other parts are coming in then as well…I have to look sharp."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "As if you ever do," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Merlin hurried to reply. "I'll do it when we get back."

"Who said you're going?" Arthur asked with a scowl.

"Um," Merlin thought for a moment. "Gaius…?" he tried, lifting the medicine bag he had been given by the elderly physician.

Arthur face-palmed and approached his hapless servant. He could be such an idiot at times. "No, Merlin, you're not going, not this time. I need that armour done TODAY, not next week."

"Well it can't be THAT big of a job!"

"Just do it…I want it finished when I return."

o.O.o

Oh, Merlin could have spat flames after that one! He was already cooking up several good revenge plots, including bad food, vinegar instead of wine, a trashed bedroom, no boots, just vanishing for a day or two…letting the chickens loose in the room…pouring honey all over the prince as he slept – lord knew he slept hard enough to not feel it. Or better yet, hanging a bucket of oil over the door to where it would tump the moment the door next opened. Oh, there were so many good ideas running through the teenaged wizard's head…

Finally, he put down the last piece of the dratted metal and stood back to survey his work. He had to admit – it did look good. A little bit of Gaius's shine potion and _dwallah_; perfect armour that would be forever easier to clean as long as the prince didn't go breaking it.

He looked up as he heard horses thundering through the gates and entering the courtyard. The wizard ran out to greet them and see how they had fared. No one seemed hurt – no, wait; Arthur was holding his side and leaning into it. Merlin ran up to him immediately, taking the horses reigns so the prince could dismount. Arthur was bleeding from a wound in his side – though it didn't look too bad, Merlin didn't think.

"How did it go?" Merlin asked

Arthur grunted and dismounted, inhaling sharply as his landing jolted the knife wound. "Great," he answered shortly. He turned to Perceval and glanced at the unconscious prisoner draped unceremoniously across the knight's saddle. He looked strangely pathetic up there. He shook himself out of the idea and pursed his lips. "Take him inside," he ordered, "We'll take him to Gaius, get him bandaged up and then to the king."

Mordred then made his move, edging up to the Prince. "You shouldn't be taking any chances," he scolded. "This thing is dangerous and crooked – if tended to, there is no telling what he could do to injure or – gods forbid – kill the king or yourself. Take him to Uther immediately!"

Arthur frowned. "But he has wounds that must be tended to Uncle," he started to argue, but stopped when he saw his Uncle's insistent look. Mordred could be a pain at times, but Arthur often found he seemed to be right in most matters of state. He had been of great council when the forests had become infested and had helped to lead the troops into the then treacherous woods many times. Arthur acquiesced with a sigh. "Take him directly to the king," he said grudgingly…it didn't feel right. "Try to wake him on the way there, okay? He should at least meet my father with his eyes open."

Merlin's eyes grew wide as they watched as Perceval dismounted, dragging the elf off the horse after him. Even unconscious and bruised the elf seemed ethereal and otherworldly. But it wasn't in a bad way; not at all like the bedtime stories and legends would have one believe. No, it was as if this creature was more ancient and wise than anyone else around, as if all the weathered warriors standing nearby were mere children. There was a sorrow that the wizard felt as seeing this creature being so mistreated that Merlin couldn't quite place. He watched as the elf was hauled away between Gawaine and Perceval, his feet dragging limply across the cobblestones of the courtyard.

"Merlin?"

The servant boy was jerked back to the sound of the prince calling his name. "Mmhmm?"

"Put away the horses?"

"Oh," Merlin murmured, a crestfallen expression on his face, "Right." He'd have to check up on the elf later.

o.O.o

Elrohir's head was pounding…literally pounding against his skull and eyeballs as if trying it's hardest to break free. He must have had WAY too much of that Dorwinian Wine last night. From what the young elf could feel, he was also lying on the cold hard floor – and in his day clothes. He slowly pried open his steel grey eyes, his foggy mind just barely registering the gruff voice demanding he wake up. Why? He asked himself with a soft groan, _it's not like I have anything overly important to do_…

"Finally, it looks like he's coming to."

Suddenly Elrohir jerked upright with a panicked gasp, immediately regretting the decision to move. No, he realized, he wasn't at home, and it wasn't Elladan waking him. The memories all flooded back at once with a painful clarity and the Elf placed a protective hand gently on his side. The arrow had been removed, but there was no bandage to protect the wound from the air. The elf's weapons had been taken from him, and there were men on either side of him with brandished weapons.

"Manke na'im?" he asked in his native tongue, his mind unable yet to struggle with the less familiar Westron tongue. The men looked at him strangely, as if they were both afraid and furious at the same time. Then Elrohir glanced at the man standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. This one – obviously the ruler – had an expression of pure hatred, distrust and indignation on his cold, weathered face. Elrohir shivered at the aura radiating from the man bur refused to look away. He repeated his question, slowly rising to his feet despite the stinging pain of his wounds.

The soldiers next to the elf immediately grabbed his arms as he rose, restraining him. The king turned on his heel and stormed toward Elrohir, stopping mere inches from the elf's pale face. He glared directly into the warrior's eyes and once more, Elrohir quailed at the sheer contempt and hatred that lay, all too evident in this human's heart. He rarely, if ever, saw such malice directed towards his kind, though he knew there were many who saw the Elves as a threat – but this kind of hatred went beyond suspicion or tales. This came from something deeper and darker, hidden within the recesses of the king's past. A pain that was deep-rooted in Uther's very essence and Elrohir knew that it did not bode well for himself or his brother.

To the side, a young man in armour – the man he had fought in the woods – stood, a fresh bandage around his middle. Elrohir's eyes grew wide for a moment as he realized who the man was. That must be the king's son! There was a definite resemblance, though the younger man seemed more kind-faced and open to suggestion.

"Why were you trespassing on our land?"

The king's voice was rough and cold, like a high mountain pass and Elrohir turned his gaze back to him and frowned, puzzled. "Trespassing?" he asked, his tongue now managing to work with the Human's speech. "We were trespassing on no one's lands save that of Lord Elrond of Rivendell." The Westron was still much accented, but at least he was managing to make coherent sentences with this blasted headache.

His answer only seemed to enrage the king more. "These forests belong to Camelot," he snapped, "Not to you pointy-eared mongrels!" His son made to calm him, but stood back as his father began to pace. "These woods have long been purged of your kind, and now you dare to claim them as your own?"

The human's face was flushed now, his grey eyes shooting daggers of hatred toward the captive elf. Elrohir's blood boiled at the insults being thrown at him – how could this human not know the loyalty of the Forest? He strained against his captors.

"The Forest never was, and never can be under man's dominion until I and my people return to the undying lands!" he barked. "And I dare you to speak of my people in such a manner once more – I swear that you will surely regret it!" He was a prince, for the Valar's sake! He should not have to put up with such fowl treatment. He straightened within the soldiers' grasp, but the human king seemed unaffected.

"The woods were, until recently, free of your kind," the King growled, "and now you invade my lands, defile my forests, attack my people -"

"What?" Elrohir was furious. "We have NEVER harmed any of your people! The very thought -"

"We have both witnesses and victims, Elf!" Uther spat, bearing down on the incensed foreigner. "They have seen and experienced your brutality! Do not try to deny the obvious."

"I am not," the Elf replied. "These 'witnesses' of yours are either mentally ill or blatant liars!"

A solid punch to the jaw sent the distraught Elf reeling, pain screaming through the Prince's skull. For one so old, Uther Pendragon had a hard upper clip. Elrohir turned back to glare at the offensive human – the metallic taste of blood registered in the back of his mind. These men were insane and unfair, giving him no chance to present his case or defend himself…the cowards!

"Where are the others?"

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at the question – and quickly relaxed it once more so as to not give away his thoughts. So they did not have Elladan as he had feared; that was good. He could relax a little, if only slightly. He was free and could call for help from Imladris. Elrohir steeled himself; he could not allow these wretched humans to catch his twin!

"I came alone," he lied, his face impassive.

"You were seen with another."

"Aye, just as I was seen molesting your villages," Elrohir scoffed.

This time he was rewarded with a soldier's hard-heeled boot ramming into his side, slamming into the still open arrow wound. Elrohir fell to his knees with a cry, stars dancing before his eyes as the pain screamed thorugh his body and mind. The king grabbed the elf's chin and pulled his face up to meet his.

"You are an advance scout, elf…any simpleton could see that by your clothes and demeanor. Do not try to lie to me." The man leaned closer, and the guards pulled Elrohir's arms painfully behind the elf's back.

"You will tell us all, mongrel," the king whispered, his eyes glinting with a cold fire, "before the day is through, mark my words."

o.O.o

Please comment!

Manke na'im?: Where am I?


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Narye, and Daryl and the squire! Rights go to respective creators and owners blah blahblah etcetera etcetera…

Enjoy.

Chapter 6

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, suffering and endless interrogation, Elrohir was thrown unceremoniously into a grimy cell by three mean-looking guards. The Elf barely managed to keep on his feet long enough for the guards to turn around before collapsing to the filthy ground, weary and aching. His wounds were still unbound – would they even bother with that much? Bruises were forming a scattered pattern across Elrohir's face and arms, and every inch of the young elf's body seemed to scream in pain at the slightest motion or sound.

The King – Uther – had insisted that Elrohir and his cohorts had attacked and pillaged several of Camelot's outlying villages during the cover of night. He had also made the erroneous assumption of attempted invasion on the part of the Elves, with Elladan and Elrohir as the advance scouts. Elrohir had, of course, denied everything, and Uther had dealt with the supposed lies by practically beating the poor elf senseless. The guards had taken advantage of every wound Elrohir had already sustained in battle, compounding seemingly small wounds and turning them into major problems. The men took a special delight in using the archery wound against Elrohir, poking and prodding it every chance they got, causing the wound to re-open time and again. Elrohir had barely been able to contain the screams that threatened to tear through the dark air, forcing himself to remain silent and uncooperative. This of course, only made the king and guards even angrier and more vicious. Now, in the damp darkness of his cell, Elrohir could feel his wounds aching, and knew with the healer's instinct that he had inherited that the wounds would soon be infected, if they weren't already.

Leaning his back against the cold stone wall, the Elven prince tried to keep himself from thinking of just how dark and dank his prison was. But his eyes wandered heedlessly across his surroundings with growing contempt and anxiety. Ever since his childhood, Elrohir had held an innate fear of dark, close places – this cell was that and more. Putrid smelling and filthy, with the only light present filtering down through a barred window near the ceiling barely large enough for a child to get through, without the bars. The bottom edge of the window rested level with the street. In one corner of the cell, a dirty pile of straw served as bedding for whatever prisoner – this time Elrohir – happened along. Rat droppings told the elf that he was not the only occupant of the cell. Elrohir shivered – he despised rats.

Motionless he sat there, his eyes half open as he slowly drifted towards Elven sleep. His mind wandered to his brother, and he wondered if he could still contact him through their bond.

o.O.o

Elladan was riding as fast as he could towards the human settlement, his bow and quiver bouncing rhythmically on his back as he spurred his steed to greater speed. When he felt his brother's presence, he almost whooped for joy.

~Gwadur nin?~

Elladan felt relieved and worried at the same time as his brother's mind-voice called to him. He solidified the link and immediately replied, sending positive and happy emotions toward his obviously uncomfortable twin. ~Elrohir!~ he called through the bond, ~Cin Mae/are you well? Where are you?~

~I'm alright,~ the rider heard, ~Just a little bruised.~

Elladan didn't believe that tone for a moment. His brother was in trouble, and he needed to go to him. He could feel his other's pain through their bond almost as if it was his own. Suddenly, his brother's aura became troubled and wary, and Elladan knew something was desperately wrong.

o.O.o

In the semi-dream he shared with his brother, Elrohir saw something in the mists on the edge of his vision. Dark, but not menacing, it chilled the younger twin's heart. ~Do not worry, Gwadur nin,~ he sent to his brother, and quickly severed the link. Someone had been listening in! For all the elf knew, it was some sort of trickery being used to find Elladan – and he couldn't let that happen! The king that held him prisoner was dark and devious, and Elrohir was not about to let him take yet another elf into this infernal dungeon.

His eyes refocused slowly as he heard the cell door open to let in a dark skinned woman carrying a plate. Elrohir tried to stand so as not to show any weakness in front of these mortals, but collapsed with a gasp as the wound in his side re-opened once more. The weakened warrior contented himself with pressing his back against the firm, cold wall and glaring at the newcomer. The woman was kind-faced and delicate, though her hands were roughened from hard work. He supposed she was a servant girl from the castle. Elrohir found it hard to continue glaring as if he would tear her to shreds, his kinder nature telling him to relax and just avoid her. She was a woman, and didn't seem to pose a threat, not to mention seemed kinder than anyone else he had seen yet in this horrid place.

Guinevere glanced at the Elf leaning against the wall first with trepidation, then with compassion and sadness. He looked to pitiful there, covered in grime, his hair in a tangled mass, his clothing torn and bedraggled. Merlin had told her that the elf was noble and proud and beautiful – he hadn't been wrong. The defiance was blatant in this creature's eye. Gwen set the plate down on the small bench by the opposite wall and turned back to the man. Those eyes were haunting; Guinevere thought for a moment she could hear a silent plea for freedom within their steel grey depths as they bored into her soul. She stood there, staring at the Elf's gaze…

"Come on, Gwen," one of the guards said gruffly, "no fra'ernizin' wih te prisoners now – you know the rules." The guard popped his head in the door and waved for her to come out. "Besides, he's a dangerous one – would tear ya t' pieces if'n he got half a chance." The man grunted. "'s a good thing he's got chains on 'im."

Guinevere caught the wry and demeaning expression that flashed across the elf's face, quickly replace with a pleading look in her direction. The servant girl wrung her hands, and then picked up the plate and handed it to Elrohir. "Here," she said, "it's not much, but it's something."

"Cummon out'a there, wench!" the guard snapped, and pulled her roughly out of the cell, slamming the door shut with a clang. "No'one's allowed ta go that close to th' prisoner." He frowned at the girl, sending a shiver through her. "Don' do that again."

Gwen jerked her arm out of his thick, weathered hands and held her delicate chin up in defiance. "If I hadn't, he'd have starved to death, Firen. The King wouldn't want him to do that, would he?" she asked, arching a curved eyebrow teasingly.

Firen tugged at his scraggly black beard with a grumble. "No," he muttered, "I reckon he wouldn't…just yet." He finished with an evil glint in his eye. Gwen turned and left before her emotions could be made known, her blue skirt swishing quietly in her wake.

Elrohir quickly scarfed down the few morsels on the plate, ignoring the foul taste of stale bread and spoiled cheese. Anything was better than nothing. He glanced after the girl and wondered if perhaps there was someone who would find it in their hearts to help him escape from this wretched place. The vision in his dream still troubled him, and the Elven warrior could still feel its presence even while awake…he dared not contact Elladan again for too long.

o.O.o

Meanwhile in the forests, Elladan was speeding on his way to the castle where Elrohir had been taken, heedless of the setting sun. His brother was in trouble, and he wasn't about to let him sit in the Human hell-hold for any longer than necessary. He had felt his brother's pain, and the fear at whatever had forced Elrohir to sever the link so quickly. The wood nymph was still clinging to his hair, but now was just riding with him, her large eyes squinting against the harsh wind whipping at her face.

"You shouldn't go!" she repeated for the umpteenth time, "Danger stays there!"

"All the more reason I have to go!" Elladan snapped. "So either ride with me and be quiet, or go back to your forest! I have to save my brother, and that's final!"

The nymph sighed and buried herself deeper into the elf's hair, her aura radiating regret and fear for what lay ahead for all of them as the horses galloped into the night.

TBC! Hope y'all liked it – sorry for the extreme delay in material. I was out of town visiting family and couldn't snatch a computer! but I'm back now.


	7. Chapter 7

Yay, the next chapter!

Chapter 7

Merlin woke from his sleep with a start, jerking upright with a gasp. His black hair was all awry and tousled from tossing and turning in his sleep, his face pale in the moonlight. So there was another! He chided himself as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and slipped on his shoes. Not only was there another, but he was on his way here. The young wizard could feel the elf's presence as he approached; it was only a matter of minutes before he would be at the castle walls. He glanced out his window – only a couple hours before dawn, he figured. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind to hear the elven speech once more.

But all he could hear were emotions – desperation, worry, pain, fear, determination, and a great, great anger that made the young boy shiver when he touched it. Merlin decided then that he had been on the sidelines long enough – he had to do something to help these people, and he needed to start with the facts. Slipping on his worn blue shirt and brown leggings, Merlin tiptoed through Gaius' room and through the door entered the passageway that led to the rest of the castle. He would start with the dungeons, where he knew the Elf was being held.

He made his way quietly through the castle, being careful not to disturb the guards or sleeping gentry. Without the hustle and bustle of activity, the castle seemed abandoned, the only light from the moon filtering in through the tall windows, scattering pools of light across the stone floor. He slipped across the courtyard and opened the door to the lower levels when he almost ran head on into Guinevere. She gasped and stumbled back, startled at the boy's sudden appearance.

"Merlin," she whispered, "What are you doing up?"

"I had to see," he said, his voice hoarse. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep, figured I'd get some work done."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Have you been to the dungeons?"

"Yes, last night." Gwen replied, her expression downcast. "You're wondering about the elf, aren't you?"

Merlin nodded. "How is he?"

"He's bruised and beaten, and in a lot of pain." Gwen replied. "They're torturing him, Merlin. They have no compassion, no mercy. They won't even let Gaius treat his wounds."

Merlin could see the tears in the woman's amber eyes. "I have to go see for myself," he said, and brushed past her. Then turning around, he laid a hand on her arm. "We'll get him out, I promise." He turned to leave once again, but Gwen caught his arm and pulled him back.

"How Merlin?" she asked pleadingly, "How are we going to get him out? He's on guard twenty-four seven, and when he's not, he's being interrogated!"

"I don't know how just yet," Merlin said, "But I'll figure out something – trust me." With that, he disappeared into the darkness of the corridors towards the dungeons. Guinevere sighed and headed back toward her home. She doubted she'd be able to sleep at all until the Elf was free.

Merlin reached the dungeons 20 minutes later, after sending the guards off to the land of nod and slipping past another set of guards by making their dice dance in mid-air like pixies. He skidded to a halt in front of the cell that he knew the Elf would be kept in…

It was empty.

The Wizard's brow frowned, and he turned and headed in a different direction. They would be in the deepest parts of the dungeon for the interrogation, of that he was sure. When it came to the treatment of magical creatures Uther Pendragon gave no leniencies, and if the people were to hear the screams, their loyalty would waver. So Uther kept the interrogations in the tunnels beneath the castle, where only the earth, guards and other prisoners could hear. As Merlin drew closer, he could hear the crack of the whip, the rattling of chains and the moans of the prisoner – they were trying to wear him down through lack of sleep and food as well as pain! Merlin's teeth grated together with indignation. He slipped over to the door of the room where the sounds were coming from and peeked through the small cracks in the door.

Uther stormed toward the bound elf, jerking his chin up to face the King's angry glare. "Tell us where the rest of your troops are!" he shouted, his face livid. "I know you now – your silence will earn you nothing."

Elrohir's eyes opened slightly, their grey irises shining through the dark grime and blood on his pale face from a cut along his hairline. Uther leaned in closer - "Law," the Elf spat, "for the thousandth time, no! There are…no troops…no one else…" His response was met by more lashes, and he cried out, tears welling in his grey eyes. Why didn't they understand? There were no troops, no invading armies…well, perhaps now, since they had him locked up, wounded and torn. His father and brother – nay, half the Rivendell army by now were probably on their way to rescue him, the Elf thought wryly as the lashes stopped and he was doused with cold water. They asked over and over again – the same questions, the same answers, repeat…it was an endless circle of pain and confusion that seemed to never end.

His chin dropped to his chest, its weight too much to hold. His raven locks fell over his eyes, hiding their pained gaze from the King's men. He wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer…he prayed for the pain to stop, for the humans to unchain him and throw him back in the dark cell they had dragged him from. He wanted to see the stars again, to feel their gentle caress and hear their enchanting song…his eyes slowly drifted closed, the black of nothingness enveloping his mind like a protective blanket.

Merlin watched as the humans tortured the Elf to the point of unconsciousness, knowing that if he made a move just yet, the captive would die, and his life would be forfeit as well – Uther took a wicked pleasure in capturing and annihilating anything magical. One thing was certain though, he had to get the stranger out of the castle and back to his people.

He plastered himself to the wall as Uther approached the door. "Take this thing back to its cell," the king spat contemptuously with a withering glare toward the Elf. "It seems he needs a more direct approach if we are to get anything out of him." With that he left the cell, slamming the cell door behind him. After he had rounded the corner, Merlin dashed toward the opposite staircase that led to the stables. There was no time to lose – he had to contact the Elf's comrade in the forest!


	8. Chapter 8

*Creeps out of the shadows tentatively* I'm back? Sorry I've been away so long – this summer has been hell – trying to finish training, preparing for tests, and holding a full time job with crazy hours, not to mention having the nephews over for the summer as well. But here's the next installment! Again, very sorry to keep everyone waiting, and I promise not to do it again. Ihope the following chapters make up for my lack of activity!

Disclaimer: Though I would love nothing better than to own LOTR, it doesn't belong to me (not even the twins ) and neither does the Merlin universe belong to me, though I really wouldn't want it anyways…Uther's too much of a jerk, lol.

**Chapter 8**

As soon as he got a chance, Merlin dashed back up to the tower where he and Gaius lived. The sun would soon begin to peek over the horizon and bring with it the light of day, so he had to hurry. Grabbing a stool, the dark haired servant boy reached up onto the highest shelf by the window and withdrew, after some effort, a thick volume on forest creatures that he had seen a few days before. Gaius had used it to identify the Elves as well, so Merlin knew that he would find what he was looking for within its pages.

He set the leather bound tome on the table beside Gaius' medicine racks, brushing off the dust that had accumulated on it – not much, granted, but it felt right all the same. Closing his eyes, Merlin cleared his mind and then brought one thought to his mind –

Forest nymphs.

He had waited all day for this one opportunity, and as he crept out through the gates that barred the castle's underground from attack, Merlin found his heart beating rapidly within his chest. He was committing an act of treason – oh, that was not the reason he was jittery, of course. The true reason was that he was heading out to meet a creature of legend, and would help them against impossible odds to free the warrior's Elven brother from Uther's vice-like grasp. The idea thrilled him, and he was both eager and hesitant. He neared the enchanted lake that lay just inside the border of the woods surrounding Camelot and waited for the nymphs that he knew would appear.

Within minutes they came, summoned by the presence of the young wizard. A small fairy-like creature flew out of the water and flew to Merlin, a frown on its tiny face.

"What do you want, wizard-child?" it asked, its voice buzzing and fluid at the same time, laced with suspicion. The nymphs and Merlin had not been on good terms for very long and the tension was still high between them.

"There is an Elf in these woods," Merlin began, "His friend is trapped within Camelot, I have to get him out-"

"That is not our concern," the nymph huffed, crossing his arms dramatically.

"It is too!" Merlin pleaded, "He is a magical creature, just like you are!"

"Yes," the nymph grumbled, "but his plight is not for us to try."

"Why?"

"Because the Guardian has taken them under her wing."

"The what?"

But Merlin never got his answer. Another young nymph approached the spokesman and whispered in one pointed ear and a neutral glimmer fell over the older nymph's face. "You must leave," he said, turning to Merlin. "Wait for your elf in the northern clearing."

Merlin paused at the sudden change in heart of the nymphs. "Thank you," he said with a slight bow and bolted off in the direction that the nymph showed him. Finally, he was getting somewhere!

Once there, the wizard waited by the clearing, hidden in shadow, for the foreigner. He had been told by the forest nymphs that the Elf would come this way, and the wizard knew he was on horseback from the sounds in last night's dream. The woods were almost completely shrouded in darkness, pierced only occasionally by the moon's faint rays slipping through the branches of the thick foliage. The cooing of birds and the chirruping of the frogs along the river were the only sounds that pierced the dark stillness. The stars shone bright in the nighttime sky; Merlin couldn't remember a time they shone as bright as they did now. But, he thought he felt a murmuring stillness, like that before a terrible storm, and he wondered if it was just his imagination, or if there was something to the feeling after all. He hoped there wasn't – he wanted to see these people set free, and his home back at peace with its neighbors, however strange they may be. But the feeling of an oncoming storm refused to leave him, however distant it may be.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of hoof beats along the forest floor. Much quieter than normal horses, these were faint even as the rider burst into the clearing. The moon shone brightly on the warrior as his horses reared at the smell of the human, and Merlin's heart quavered before the sight. The rider was identical in almost every way to the Elf back in Camelot, and the young wizard's heart leapt for joy; this was the one he had been looking for! Merlin stepped out of the shadows – still with caution – and waved at the elf. The rider turned and his eyes seemed to bore right through the young human with their intensity and anger. Merlin shivered but kept his ground. He did NOT want to be on this elf's bad side.

"Daro, brannon!" Merlin cried in broken, heavily accented elven-tongue, "I mean you no harm but am here to help!"

Elladan dismounted and unsheathed his blades as he approached the wizard. "It was YOUR people who took by brother," he spat, "Your people who are harming him, beating him and keeping him from me and my kin. Give me a damned good reason why I shouldn't kill you on the spot." Elladan was now towering over the small human, his eyes glowering with a fire independent of the starlight.

"I – I came to help you take your brother back!" Merlin said stammering, "I too have magic, and I want to help. I have seen what Uther is doing to him and it is wrong…I have seen it many times before with others of our kind. And he's calling in a professional from the borders I hear, so we have to act now or things are going to get much, much worse."

Elladan frowned at the puny human standing before him. He seemed honest, but Humans, from his own experience, even magical ones were devious, and not to be trusted.

"How do I know you won't just hand me over as well for a reward?" he asked.

"Because if I was that kind of person," Merlin retorted, "which I'm not, then I wouldn't be alone; would I?"

Elladan paused, and then nodded. "You are right," he said, "But I still don't trust you." He wanted to though – he wanted to have an inside man he could trust to help get his brother out of that hell-hold of a fortress. "How is my brother?"

"Wounded, beaten and bruised," Merlin replied, "But nothing he can't recover from if we get him out of there now."

"Your plan?"

"I can get him out of the dungeons." Merlin began, "Here's what I had in mind…"

o.O.o

An hour or so later, Elladan crouched near a utility exit along the far edges of Camelot's gates, trying to still his jumpy nerves. Merlin's plan was simple – all too simple, but with a wizard as the creator, it just might work. Elladan had seen Wizards like this young man do great things before, and perhaps this one too would prove to be more than the puny child he looked. His father was always telling him not to underestimate the humans; "They are wiser and more cunning than they ever look," his father would say with a sigh, remembering his own parents. These wizards were completely different from wizards like Gandalf; they weren't part of the Maiar at all. They had a magic of their own, cultivated by bloodline and knowledge beyond that of other humans, but nothing like the Istari or Elvenkind.

Now, waiting in the shadows of the early hours before dawn, Elladan whispered a silent prayer to the Valar for his brother's safety; _please let this human be what he says, let us get out of here in one piece_.

He felt a tickling at his side under his cape, and wriggled, trying to get away from it. He swept back the cloak and batted at whatever it was trying to get at him…out popped the nymph from between the folds, her hair tousled and knotted, her form bedraggled and scruffy looking, completely unbecoming of the 'guardian of the forests'. Elladan had forgotten completely about her in his haste to rescue his brother and the panic that followed the pain he had felt from his _Gwadur nin_. She hovered in the air brushing herself off, glaring at the young elf with indignation.

"You shouldn't have come here!" she snapped, "And _never_ shove me in your pockets again like some trinket!"

Elladan's eyes grew wide. "I shoved you in my pocket?!" he asked, bewildered. He didn't remember doing such a thing…

"You did!" The little nymph cried, her eyes blazing, "I was holding onto your braid and you grabbed me and shoved me in your pocket when we were meeting the human because I tried to keep you from him – _naucannass_!" she spat and folded her arms, pouting like a child. Elladan started and then growled in his throat; he was not one to take verbal abuse lightly, though it was hard to take anything this little creature said seriously.

"Well, I'm sorry," he said, if only to stop her infernal mumbling, "I will remember not to stuff you in my pocket next time." With that, he turned back to his vigil, waiting for the wizard boy to make his appearance – would that he would do it sooner rather than later! Waiting all day by a utility drain was not how he had pictured himself getting his brother out of this hell. But Merlin's plan made sense – if they tried to sneak him out during the day they wouldn't stand even a glimmer of a chance. At almost midnight the wizard would bring Elladan's brother to him and they would vanish into the forest's protective canopy.

o.O.o

naucannass: stupid-head (Q)

R&R please! Next Chapter in less that ten minutes! (told you I'd been busy *winks*)


	9. Chapter 9

Yo and hello again! Yes, chapter nine, a couple days late, but rather late than never! I don't own anything except the computer this was written on, so don't sue me – you would get nothing but student loans anyway, so you're better off leaving me alone Please read and review, I love hearing from you guys!

Thanks to Esmeraude11 for reminding me about the maiar/istari slip-up. I hate it when I do stupid things like that.

Elf from downunder – Thanks for your constant support! Don't worry, we're getting him out of there…I think…(evil grin)

Any that I haven't named but have still commented – thank you! Love hearing from you guys/girls/gentlebeings!

So without further adieu…the next chapter! :D

**Chapter 9**

Merlin crept past Gaius' sleeping form, wide grey eyes casting wary glances back towards the old man every time the sleeping physician mumbled or grunted. Stopping by the desk nearest the door, he slung the large leather medicine satchel over his narrow shoulders. He cast a final glance back at his old mentor and then let, making his way carefully to the dungeons on the other side of the palace.

The entire castle seemed to be sleeping as the wizard tip-toed silently through the halls as quiet as a church-mouse; but the servant knew better. Here and there he spotted the stray guard intent at his post, on the lookout for anything mischievous or out of the ordinary, on edge ever since the capture of the elf three days ago. Just the idea of having an elf within the citadel, with or without shackles made the commoners nervous. Merlin shook his head at the community's lack of knowledge. For them, the lines between Elves and Faeries had long since faded. Now, when elves were mentioned, people thought of little impish creatures with oddly coloured skin and a nasty temper to boot, while Faeries were fair and delicate with butterfly wings and a giving nature.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. In reality, one could not find a fairer, kinder or gentler creature than an elf (aside from perhaps a kitten). Wise and intelligent, they were isolated pacifists for the most part who desired nothing more than to be on their own to study the stars and govern their own kingdoms without human interference, though they did have a playful side and a taste for good parties. Faeries, on the other hand were dainty but stalwart, with oddly coloured skin to blend in with nature better. They had a vindictive and mischievous nature, and loved to play pranks on hapless humans. When humans trampled on their turf, they turned into vicious pests, using their magic to terrorize whoever plagued or bruised their ego.

The servant boy was now at the lower levels, having successfully dodged the guards and random maids working through the palace. Kitchens, maids quarters and the guardhouse lay beyond, and after that the descent into the dungeons of Camelot, where many came in, and few ever returned.

Merlin could hear the ladies in the kitchen as they talked, chattered and worked at their late night tasks. How women could stay alive with so little sleep, Merlin was sure he would never be able to comprehend – they seemed to never tire! He was sure that women were imbibed with a natural magic all their own that kept them going when even the bravest of men would cower to the heavy plethora of chores done daily by women half their size.

He passed the kitchens with little trouble and was almost past the last of the maids quarters when his luck turned sour – or so he thought. As he walked towards the door to the gardens, a door to his left swung open, and a girl bustled out carrying a try with two large mugs, obviously all business, talking to the girl still in the room. She would have bowled completely over the poor wizard had she not turned around to shut the door with her foot just in time to see him under her nose, his eyes wide with horror. She fell back against the door with a yelp. Once she had recovered her breath, she glared at Merlin. "What do you think you're doing here?!" she hissed. "Why you ought to -" she paused at the sight of the medicine bag slung over Merlin's shoulder. "Oh surely you're not…"

"Not what?" Merlin asked defensively, shoving the bulging sack behind his slender waist.

"You're…You're going to rescue that poor creature, aren't you?" Gwenevere said, more a statement than a question. Merlin nodded. The ruse wouldn't work on Gwen…he'd never been able to keep anything secret from her anyways, so why start trying now?

The girl blew out a sigh and squared her shoulders. "Well, then I'm coming too." She said, matter-of-factly. "You can't carry him all by yourself."

"Can too!" Merlin protested.

"You can't even carry Arthur's armour without help," Gwen countered with her classic crooked smile, "Don't try me."

The two of them made their way through the gardens, stopping at the herbal area to pick up a couple of herbs. Gwen had concocted a plan to knock out the guards at the cell with a simple plant extract that Merlin made with his magic, that they could drop into the drinks when they got to the cells. The powder would react with the alcohol in the beer and the men would be asleep in a couple of minutes. Merlin was leading the way, and walked right up to the Guard house. Gwen yanked him back though, and pulled him to her side. "You're just going to waltz in there?!" she asked, her voice high pitched with panic.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, why not?" he asked sarcastically. "I'll wear a pink bonnet and a frilly skirt and dance a jig right through them." He elbowed the servant girl with a chuckle. "of course not. We'll skirt around the edges of the house, and I'll use a bit of magic to divert their attention while we get through." He shrugged.

"I have a better idea," Gwen said and grabbed the wizard's hand, hauling him away from the guard house and through a side door that was covered in ivy. They entered a small unadorned room with a pile of old grass and barrels sitting on the floor. Gwen walked over to the barrels and started pushing them aside. "This used to be the guest room for visiting attendants," she said as she worked, "but now it's just a winter storeroom that rarely if ever gets used." She shoved one final barrel out of her way to reveal an old trap door whose hinges seemed to have rusted almost clean through. "You'll have to tell me it's story some time," Merlin muttered in awe, "I'd love to hear it."

"I'm sure you would," Gwen said wryly, "It's about a wizard." She grabbed a torch and handed it to Merlin to light. The staircase descended into the darkness of the earth with seemingly no end, giving Merlin a slight tough of vertigo when he looked down into the depths. "This stairway leads to a passage that goes below the guardhouse and around the side of the dungeons," Gwen said as she led the way into the dark tunnel. "It's how I've been sneaking what little food and water I can to him. Merlin, they're starving him, beating him day and night…" she trailed off and Merlin put a comforting hand on the servant girl's shoulder.

"We're going to get him out of there, Gwen." He told her, "Tonight."

o.O.o

"Fer one so girly lookin', this blighter's sure gotta lot o' spunk," muttered Val as he helped his fellow guard drag the Elven prisoner back to his cell. "I hear they can't break 'im. He just goes on and on, muttering jibberish, or starin' at'em. Oh he cried plenty, I've heard that much; but this guy's gotta be one tough cookie ta still be fightin' after all this."

"Aye, ah hear the king's callin' in fer professionals," Quince growled. They threw their limp charge into its waiting cell where it crumpled into a heap on the cold floor. The guards barely even glanced at the creature once they dropped it, exiting the cell and locking the door with a thunderous clang. Neither of them thought the lock was hardly necessary any more though.

"I don't think he's gonna last much longer meself," Val muttered as he sat down in his chair beside the table where the two of them played cards every night. "He's weak as a kitten, barely able ta lift his head, an' those wounds is infected now fer sure."

"Ah, don't go gettin' all soft on us now Val," Quince said and pounded his friend on the shoulder. "You knows as well as I does what Eves do tae us humans if given the chance." The older guard spat in the elf's general direction. "This'll teach those whelps not ta mess with us again."

They sat there in silence for a while, each left to their own thoughts and fears as they stood guard over the still form. Val shuffled his feet nervously.

"The next shift should be comin' in soon, Val…relax." Quince said softly. "After we're relieved we'll go to th'tavern before headin' home t'the missus, eh?" he asked, trying to cheer the younger soldier up. The young man was beating himself up over a useless and dangerous creature that wouldn't have blinked an eye at killing the both of them or their wives and children. As far as Quince was concerned, the bugger deserved every bit of misery that he got, and more.

The appearance of the fresh guard broke the men from their dark thoughts. They saluted the newcomers and switched out Quince's torch for the new one that the second guard had brought. Val took the old one in his left hand and spared one last glance into the darkness of the cell. The prisoner had moved – so he hadn't been unconscious after all! The elf now leaned against the far wall, his arms lying limply in his lap, his legs loosely crossed. The long ebony hair which before had streamed like water and glimmered in the starlight now hung before the elf's face and over his shoulders in clumps, knotted and filthy, dingy like the rest of the cell. Despite all the grime and dust though, an ethereal glow seemed to envelop the creature, making him look strangely clean despite all the injuries and grime, as if the world couldn't actually touch him. Val looked at the elf's face – and froze. Those open eyes, as deep and grey as the starscape, glowing with a light of their own bore down on him and seemed to pierce right through the footsoldier's heart. He was filled with a sudden dread and terror, more than the young man had ever experienced before, nor wished to feel again. He stared into those eyes, glued to the spot for what seemed an eternity. The rough touch of his companion's hand on his shoulder broke Val from his trance.

"Don' look at 'is eyes, idjit," Quince growled, "Di'ye want a curse on you an' yourn?" he glared at the door to the elf's cell. "That's what they do – see into ya an' bewitch yer soul. Suck ye dry til ye got nothin' more ta give and you die like a starved rat."

Val shivered and turned away from the source of his nightmares. "I think I'll 'ave that drink now," he muttered.

o.O.o

Elrohir sighed softly as the guard he'd been staring at finally left. The one was young and impressionable, but his companion was as stubborn as humans could get, and kept interfering. The elf closed his eyes and breathed as deeply as he dared. The wound in his side burned with pain, the infection had definitely set in and was eating away at his reserves. He could feel at least two broken ribs, and enough bruises to frighten the Valar. Burns from the coals marred his arms back and chest, and his wrists, neck and ankles were rubbed raw from the ropes and shackles that he'd been held in. Every inch of him was sore, and longed for the peace and comfort of his home in Imladris. He longed to see his brother again, and to hear his father's voice – even if it was chiding him for the next century on the twin's foolhardiness and reckless behavior. Elrohir probed his connection with his brother tentatively – He knew the king had someone watching for their link, trying their best to find his beloved twin. He had only felt the intruder once though – which seemed slightly odd…perhaps hehad learned how to mask himself in the misty netherworld of thought.

Elrohir turned his focus back to the present at the sound of something or someone hitting the ground with a soft thump. The young warrior managed to clamber onto his feet, biting back the hiss of pain that threatened to give his weaknesses away. He was tired of these humans' games and was going to either escape or die trying. _More likely die trying in your condition_, he thought wryly as the sound of footsteps drew nearer.

After knocking out the guard with one of the sleeping draughts Gaius kept prepared in his storeroom (via the ale Gwen had swiped from a table at the back of the guardhouse) Merlin tiptoed over to the lock on the cell door. He whispered something the Elrohir couldn't understand and the boy's eyes flashed, the lock giving way as if the bolts were brand new. The door swung open, revealing the prisoner inside. Gwenevere stifled a gasp when she caught sight of the captive within.

Merlin however, proceeded to barrel in the door – much to his own folly. The seemingly half-conscious prisoner leapt upon the unsuspecting wizard with a power only found through desperation and tackled Merlin in a death grip around the boy's throat.

TBC!


End file.
